


seven days of eren jaeger

by fishstick



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Neighbors, Porn With Plot, Vouyerism, Young Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), tfw armin is the only decent human being
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishstick/pseuds/fishstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road to love is paved with masturbation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. day one

 

_Pretty eyes._

It's his first thought upon seeing the boy next door, hauling ass and crates through the small, rickety doorway of his new home. Levi has a great seat for viewing; his window is half a yard from the neighboring house, from the broken blinds that the boy seems to either not notice or ignore.

The movers help him shoulder cardboard box after box inside, muscles glistening with sweat in the sunlight. He's sweaty, too, and probably just as rank, but somehow the perspiration manages to give him this Olympian-bronze sheen, like his skin's been drenched in cheap glitter perfume. Decked out in a floppy sunhat - which _somehow_ manages to look good on him - and a pair of slim jean capris with a belt slung loose around his hips. A faded pink shirt to reflect the sun, forming a naked V around his neck.

He's pretty.

Definitely pretty.

And his  _eyes._ His eyes are emerald green. They stand out like gemstones against the rusty chainlink backdrop, as Levi watches him crush cigarette butts under his bare feet and sidestep glass shards with idiotic self-abandon. Surely the tar's red-hot, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all; he shouts back and forth as he carries furniture inside, following and issuing commands, voice reverberating down the long street. He flings his arms around the windowsill, long, tan, and lithe, gulps down some fresh air and fans his face with a glossy hand. And now he's tugging at the edge of his shirt, pulling it upwards until it's all the way over his head, shrugging it off his shoulders, slinging it to the side, stretching and-

_Holy shit._ _  
_

Levi backs away from his spot to avoid being noticed - not, however, before committing the scene to memory. He doesn't know if he'll use it, or when, or whether or not it should be utilized. It just kind of seems like the right thing to do. 

 

-

 

Later that day, Levi is listening to the mean exchange of his mother in the kitchen, barely muffled by his flimsy bedroom door. She's on the phone with some other renter bitch, talking about their new neighbor; doesn't he look a bit young to be living on his own like this? Oh, well, that's probably the reason why he can't afford any better. Nothing but vitriol until he hears her step outside, still sneering, and slam the screen shut behind her. Hurrying over to the window, Levi sees heading down the sidewalk to introduce herself. Green Eyes is lugging a series of chairs into the house when she taps him on the shoulder, smiling, and he gingerly sets down his load. As per usual, Levi observes the conversation from his window - it's Sunday, it's hot, she offers to make him some lemonade and throws him a flirtatious wink.  _Ugh._ He shakes his head slightly and denies her, polite but brusque. When he smiles, it looks forced and feral, and his teeth bare themselves in a grin that's all but natural. It's painfully obvious that he prefers to be left alone.

Eventually, Green Eyes manages to shoo all the curious visitors away, the outdoor children drawn in by the allure of a huge truck parked on the street curb. Levi overhears his mother talking, once more, as she drinks in front of the kitchen TV - "just turned nineteen," "college student," "probably swimming in loans."

Most of what his mom talks about, while drinking, is stupid nonsense. Oftentimes, she forgets he's listening, or that he's even there at all; she stumbles over finances, welfare, girl problems and other shit that kids shouldn't hear from their parents. Every time. It's the same. And she never mentions her son.

However, buried within all the usual antagonism and rancor, Levi manages to pick up one special piece of information: "Eren Jaeger."

That's his name.

It's not Green Eyes anymore. It's Eren. Jaeger, which sounds German, and Eren, which is every bit as svelte as the boy it refers to.

Because he has nothing better to do, Levi whispers the name to himself; over and over again until it begins to lumber awkwardly on his lips. Once he can say it no more, he transfers it to his mind - _Eren Jaeger._ It could be the moniker of some starlet or spy, undercover as a humble college kid with a cute face and a weird sense of fashion.

_Eren._

Ridiculous. Even his _name_ is pretty.

_  
_

-

 

He keeps his bedroom dark and silent, using the light of the moon to see into the world on the other side. Eren is undressing, blissfully unaware of a pair of pale eyes roving across his warm back, trailing the bend of his spine as he rolls upwards, shimmering like a brown-skinned ghost. Heat swells in Levi's gut when he sees the boy reach down to his fly, fingers wrapping around the zipper and tugging once, twice, downwards. Eren pops the button, pushes the waistband to his hips, shimmies out of his slacks and poises there, bathing in the silver glow - completely nude except for a single slip of fabric hugging the curve of his thighs.

For now, Levi contents himself to watch unseen, stomaching the dirty thrill. It feels almost illegal - probably _is_ \- to stare as Eren lounges on his bed, partially obscured by the broken blinds and shadows, with a lamp lit by his side. A book in his hand, some pencils in the other - but Levi doesn't care what he's doing as long as he doesn't turn off the light. He looks stronger in the gloom, more muscular and mean. Lean, but bestial. Messy-haired and slender, tapered at the ends. Dimpled coccyx and cruciform and million other words that Levi doesn't want to think, or know.

Once he's done studying, Eren swings his legs off the bed, does some crunches, a couple push-ups (all unclothed), and grabs a cellphone off the top of his dresser. He punches a number in, brings the screen to his ear, and executes a series of squats while he waits for an answer. Slightly bored, slightly curious, Levi watches his ass clench up and down, wondering if it's really as supple as it seems.

Eren stops. He smiles, and it's genuine this time. His lips form a greeting. He steps closer to the window, and Levi shies away, making sure that he remains shrouded in darkness.

He can't read every one of the boy's words, especially in this meager light, but Eren looks happy and isn't showing any signs of sleeping soon (or maybe masturbating). So, with a twinge of disappointment, Levi falls back onto his bed, crawls under the covers, and muffles his face in the pillow. He's tingling all over, but he ignores the sensation; maybe he's low, but he's not _dirty._

Some snarky part of his brain snorts at that. _Yeah, right. Come tomorrow...  
_

But so what?

He deflects the guilt. After all, it's only a sin if God is watching. And if God is watching, that makes him just as much of a pervert as Levi.


	2. day two

 

And that's how Levi finds himself with his hand down his pants on a warm Monday night, all eyes on Green Eyes' ass.

It wasn't intentional.

Really, it wasn't.

It just kind of... _happened_. Once Eren slipped out of his underwear, Levi's fingers slipped down to his crotch. And that was that.

He has to squint to see through the blinds, but the sight that greets him is so worth it; apparently, Eren sleeps in the nude, and he's left his lamp on to boot. With his legs spread like that, mouth slightly unhinged, it's not hard for Levi to envision a tongue between those soft lips, a length between those bronze thighs.

Not bad in the size department, either. Not bad at all. Enough to make Levi yank down his zipper, spread himself a little farther apart, cup a small hand around the growing heat in his boxers as he kneels at the window's edge.

_Christ._

It's a waste of time to justify himself. He's breathing harder now; quick, light pants as he palms the slow rise through the fabric. Levi can see himself in the dusky, dusty mirror on his dresser drawers - it's cracked and ancient, but the pale, slender boy within is undeniably him, with a pained look of arousal that seems so out of place on his kid face. He knows he's young, even by Eren's standards, but going by looks alone he's practically a baby; his wrists are small enough to touch a thumb and forefinger around, and his body is all tight skin over lean muscle, sharp bone.

He hates it. He hates it, so he doesn't dwell on it. He turns his thoughts back to Eren once more, with a small, ragged gasp of pleasure as his hips jerk forwards against the glass. He's really pushing it, he knows - if Eren wakes up, if Eren sees him, his fap material is trashed and done for.

Levi places his other hand on the window, watching Eren's form fog up under the heat of his breath, and his forehead soon follows suit. His fingers slip down the pane as his back arches, ever-so-slightly, in his attempt to swallow the moans that rise in his throat. _Eren, Eren, Eren._ If he thinks hard enough, he can imagine that Eren is the one touching him, jerking his hand up and down his shaft and murmuring the words into his ear - no, _groaning,_ because maybe pretty boys aren't always that pretty, and he likes the idea of Eren edging closer and closer to the soft skin of his lobe and blowing fever onto flesh, running his tongue along the rim, then biting down _hard_ -

Hard _.  
_

Rock fucking _solid_.

He's getting too loud. He can hear his parents stirring in the room next to his own, so he mashes his lip to stifle the sounds. The air is warm, but he's even warmer; with the jolts of cold, electric heat running down the split of his thighs, he can already feel the perspiration pooling on his brow. Now his hand is Eren's tongue, wrapped around his dick, glued to the roof of his base - grinding, hip-to-hip grinding, thrusting downwards as he collides with the window once again. Fingers fly to his mouth while the others kindle fire in his gut, and there's thick, bitter sex between his teeth but he can't keep himself from clamping down harder. He tries to keep focused on Eren's body, but his lashes are rebelling and his eyes won't stay open. If he closes them, if he retreats to a world of fantasy, he can run his hands across the smooth ridges of the Eren's stomach (he's already memorized exactly how they look) and feel desired; his fist eclipsing with the thrum of blood in another's body, pulsating in time to the beat of another's heart.

He grips tighter for traction, because things are getting gross. Come soaping up his fingers, wet on his chin from the effort of holding back, and sweat clamming up the folds of his shaky knees. _Praise the lord._ Maybe he's just pent-up, maybe Eren's some sort of sex demon, maybe it's the awful excitement of private gratification betwixt he and his forbidden fruit - but whatever it is, it feels  _so_ damn good. Unrighteously insatiable, insatiably irreverent, but it makes him all the harder.

Levi has to pause for a few moments, fingers still suspended in the slick, webby mess below, because he doesn't want to finish so soon. It's his only complaint about the sensation - it goes too fast, fleets too quickly. Then there's nothing left except damp boxers and a numb sense of loss, along with the empty anticipation of tomorrow's orgasm.

Thankfully, Eren's still asleep. Disregarding the thread of drool glistening on his cheek, he's a real angel of the night. Sad shit, though. Like the old saying goes - every time you masturbate, an angel loses its wings.

 _His_ wings.

Levi's corrupting the fuck out of him, and he doesn't even know it. The image of Eren, hurt and betrayed, red-faced and teary-eyed at the knowledge he's being violated like this, draws a strident gasp from the darkhaired boy's lungs. Power and control. Levi's the master, he's in charge; even if it's just a delusion, the swell of dominance makes his legs sing with shivers. His other hand finally finds its place near the head of his cock, and he's wringing with one while he rubs with the other, shuddering, shoulders heaving. His lips tighten, his chest contracts, the lust is like two walls on either side of him - smothering, electrifying as the butterflies in his belly push ever outwards and against.

Faster. Slower. Faster. He reigns in the feeling, savors it, then lets loose once again. But it's getting harder to resist the tug towards paradise, and his arms are pumping, hips smearing the framework with overflow. His spine goes stiff as he concentrates all his energy into the rise, into the silhouette of Eren, poised in the looking-mirror of Levi's reverie.

Closer. Faster-

His spine goes lax. One low, sibilant hiss as he lurches into the glass, riding on the upwards rush.

_That's it._

The surge is killer. For one single, solitary moment of ecstasy, his mind goes blank and he's floating through nirvana, drowning in sex and glory. Then the afterebb pulls him back down and he's panting, shell-shocked, grounded in the sticky remnants of his climax.

_Ugh._

It's a shitty end to a great experience. With a silent grunt of disgust, Levi draws his hand out of his pants, slowly to avoid slathering come onto the still-clean parts of his skin. _Smells awful._ With a face like curdled milk, he wipes the jizz onto his boxers, flings his legs off the bay and hurries (as quietly as possible) to the shower. Briefly, he considers tossing his underwear in the garbage, but as he's standing in the froth and spray he reluctantly decides that he can't afford to waste another pair.

By the time he's rinsed off and dry, the stench of sweat and semen has left his body. He's fresh and flower-scented, but the remnant of a feeling still lurks under his skin - something wet, dirty, malingering and lush. The water was tepid, cold for cooling, but he's still burning up inside.

Monday night. Levi closes his eyes to the stars, with Eren's sleeping form still seared to the back of his lids.

 _In Jesus' name,_ _amen.  
_


	3. day three

 

He sits on the living room couch, confounded, as his mom's car coughs to life outside.

A _babysitter._

Why the fuck does he need a babysitter?

His mother usually has no qualms about leaving him alone for a day, or even two. Most of the time, she just pretends like he doesn't exist. Not to mention, he's twelve-and-a-half already - the _half_ part signifying that he's well over the age of needing adult supervision.

Ding, dong; the doorbell clangs its broken melody. He glowers, wills himself to rise. Wills the ground to swallow whoever's fucking unfortunate enough to be outside.

And it rings again. This time, it's followed by a resounding knock. After a few more seconds, something that sounds like a leg slams against the glass - not once, but three whole times. Loudly.

However, all his objections die in his throat when he slinks over to answer the door, props it open, pops the latch, and sees the face staring back at him.

"Yo." His sunhat droops. "I'm your babysitter."

_Mother of god._

Levi resists the urge to say "it's you" and instead gives the doorknob a sullen twist, allowing Eren to step inside. He watches the boy take off his hat and lean over, place it gingerly on the floor, eyeballing Levi all the way. He stands back up, folds his hands across his chest, face set with a hardness that's all but readable.

Levi bites back a hostile sneer. "What?"

Eren doesn't answer right away. After a few moments, though, he opens his mouth to say that he's thirsty. He wants a drink.

_This is weird as hell._

Levi shows him to the kitchen, helps him work the half-broken faucet (he has to twist the hot water handle the other way, or else it doesn't run). He grabs a cup out of a lower cabinet, half-heartedly tosses it to Eren, follows his movements as he brings the rim to his lips and swallows.

It only takes him a couple of seconds to down the whole thing. He smacks the cup on the counter and wipes his face, Adam's apple bobbing. Finally, he drags his gaze back to Levi, and it's obvious that he's not quite sure what to say now.

"So... um, you're Levi, right?"

His eyes are duller in the whetted light, shadowy like dense foliage. Still green, though. Still emeralds. "Yeah."

Eren offers one of his unnatural, feral grins - and Levi's heart gives a strange flutter at the sight. "I don't usually do this kind of thing, honestly, but um... you're thirteen, right? I mean, I don't wanna treat you like a toddler or anything, so-"

"Twelve and a half," Levi corrects him. "I don't need you here."

"Well... figures," Eren mumbles, looking slightly frazzled at the blatant rejection. "I thought you looked too old for this, anyways."

_Too old?_

This time, it's nearly a heart attack, and the heat is so strong that he can feel it all the way in his cheeks. Nobody's ever told him that he looks _old._ Old for his age. To cover the blush, he scoffs at Eren and turns away. "I am."

After a bit of one-sided negotiation on Eren's part, they end up in front of the TV, nestled awkwardly in the two bent-backed wood chairs that surround the kitchen table. On the crackling screen, news reporters herald today's latest shooting, last night's kidnapped baby-turned-organ-donor. The temperature is hot as balls. The air is one-hundred-percent devoid of moisture. The slums are slummy. Nothing that Levi doesn't already know, and nothing that he cares to hear. Eventually, Eren turns the channel with a loud, obvious sigh of resignation and a furtive glance to his side (which Levi pointedly ignores). Without many other viable options, he settles on a black-and-white Western about idiot cowboys, blonde girls and tomahawks.

He seems fairly engrossed by the time commercial breaks arrive. However, Levi's already tuned it out, let his mind wander somewhere up in the clouds as he contemplates the strange situation he's currently facing.

So. Green Eyes is his babysitter.

The bad part of this is that his dignity's now shot to shit. He has to bite his tongue to keep from uttering the words he so desperately wants to say; _I jacked off to you last night, asshole._ Though he'd love to see Eren's reaction to that piece of information, his lust supersedes his sense of self-worth.

The good part, though, is that he gets Eren to himself for a whole day. A whole, fucking _day._ It's not an ideal scenario, but he can use the situation to his advantage. 

Feathers soar. War paint flies. Commercial breaks come and go. Credits roll, soundtrack ends. His mind is still swimming with dirty things when he feels a soft, solid tap on his shoulder. "Hey, Levi. Earth to Levi."

He swivels around to face Eren, keeping his gaze impassive. "What?"

"Why're you smiling?"

Levi blinks at him. _It's nothing. Just thinking about your dick._ "I wasn't smiling."

"Sure," Eren sighs, and stretches his arms upwards in a gesture of exaggerated boredom. "Wanna go for a walk or something?"

A _what?_

"Nope," he states flatly. He makes a show of turning his head back to the TV screen, feigning total interest in Zoloft disclaimers and side effects. 

"Why not? It's really nice and warm out there."

Levi swallows his desire to kick Eren under the table. "I said _no_."

"All right," the boy sighs, and shoots Levi a glance of subdued interest that sends spiders crawling up his spine. "Then what else do you wanna do?"

There's really only one thing he feels like doing right now, but he doesn't think that Green Eyes would appreciate being the answer. "Nothing."

"God," Eren scoffs. "You're just a fucking bundle of sunshine, huh?"

And now he really does kick Eren in the shin, with a bruising force that brings the boy to the point of laughter. "Cute," Eren sniggers, grinning through the pain. He leans down to nurse his ankle with a naked heel. After a few moments of silent, masochistic relish, he sits back up and declares, "I'm going outside. I can't stick around in here any longer."

And he doesn't. He gets up with a flick of the persperation on his brow, shoves the chair away with his right leg. Levi watches him go, head out the front door without a single look behind him, and he's not sure what makes him think it would be a good idea to follow Eren outside, but - despite the heat that hits him, the sweat and odium that bloom across his face the moment he steps foot on the dirty porch - he doesn't budge. He stays.

Eren looks over at him, nonplussed. He's got a cigarette in his mouth, and for the first time Levi notices the smell of nicotine that clings to him. "Wanna smoke?"

"I quit," Levi says, secretly priding himself in the way he sounds so adultlike when he says it.

"You quit? Jeez, but you're only thirteen!" Green Eyes kicks back in the chair with a sunny laugh. "I was kidding, anyways."

" _Twelve_ and a _half_ ," he grinds out. "And it's not like you have any right to talk."

"True," Eren sighs. "It's been five whole years and I haven't tried to quit once. So, good on you." He flicks the lighter lazily, watches the flame spark and sputter a few times before he actually puts a cigarette to his lips and takes a drag. He takes it out of his mouth, rolls it in his hand, watches it burn with dull, introspective eyes.

"You smoke like a virgin," Levi comments idly, before he really realizes he's said it.

"How the hell does a virgin smoke?" Eren snorts. His gaze snaps back to Levi. "Pfft. Like you're not one."

"Nope," he sneers. "Not even close. Unlike you."

It's the truth, after all. And he's not just a _non_ -virgin, he's a non-virgin several times removed - though he only has one lover to speak of, a lover whose last name was forgettable but whose first endures in memory.  _Erwin._ A pervy old man who looked for all the world like some star-spangled posterchild; blonde-haired and blue-eyed with white teeth and a silver tongue. It unfolded like the pages of a Nabokov book, except it was Levi who'd put the moves on him the moment their gazes had eclipsed at the candy-store counter.

And it happened just like that. Then, one day, Erwin was gone. No more sex in the ugly black Bentley. No more ice-cream sundaes. No more broken family portraits, no more crying, no more sad-fucking. Nothing.

The memories make his stomach flutter. Then he catches himself, looks back to Eren to see if the boy noticed his small, private moment of happiness. Thankfully, though, Green Eyes is still twirling his cigarette, watching it smoulder between a pair of long, warm fingers while he rocks back and forth in the rickety chair.

"It's just revelation after revelation when it comes to you, isn't it," he laughs. Finally, he places the filter between his teeth again and inhales, a full five seconds before he tips his chin upwards and blows a puff of smoke into the sweltering air.

He's got some weird kind of grace about him, even if he's just a little kid in a big body. Whatever it is, it makes him fucking hard to ignore. Levi forgets the word for it now; maybe charisma? Poise. That doesn't sound quite right, though. It's too girly. He hasn't gone to school in a year. But, if he's not staring at the dip in Eren's cupid bow, then he's thinking about it - Eren makes it so hard to concentrate on anything _but_ Eren, because he's so... he's like the glimmer in his eye or the way he carries himself when he walks. Strong, a bit larger than life, totally self-aware, unassuming until you assume him.

Well. _Fuck._

"I'm gonna take a dump," Levi announces, before he can give himself any more of a boner.

Eren shoots him a strange look. "Then go take a dump." He lifts the cigarette to his lips again, grumbling. "Weirdo."

"I'm _going_ ," he snaps. He rises to his feet, slams the door in Eren's smoggy face. Once he gets inside, he seizes the opportunity and strips down to the very cotton of his boxers, letting the lukewarm air sweep over his bare skin. The sweaty clothes end up somewhere on the kitchen floor, but he hardly gives a second glance to where they land.

He spends about twenty whole minutes in the bathroom splashing cold water onto his forehead, trying to cool himself off and increasingly regretting his decision to join Eren on the porch. It's not like going for a _walk_ or anything, sure, but it's still muggy as hell out there and it's disgusting, and it's hard to breathe and even just being near the sun makes his head light and his heart pound.

He sits down on the toilet seat, then in the shower when he gets too uncomfortable, then paces over to the mirror and stares in without really seeing himself. _Inhale, exhale, repeat._ He grips the basin a bit harder, leans back and shudders down an inhale. His mind is clear, he's thinking rationally, but his nerves won't listen - his stomach fills with butterflies as he tries to keep his knees from buckling, but it's getting harder and harder to swallow the rising panic. And, all of the sudden, the room walls are too close around him, the light is too bright, his temples are pounding; his chest constricts against the overwhelming heat. He can feel the bile rise in his throat and he falls onto all fours, doubles over the toilet just in time to have the remnants of last night's meal spew out into the porcelain bowl.

After the last heave, Levi is finally brought back to his senses. His brain is hammering against his skull, but the pain is all self-awareness now; he stares in shock at the yellow-brown liquid, suspended in the murky toilet. It's mostly stomach acid, and his tongue is bitter from the vomit. The aftertaste burns. He cringes to his feet with a resplendent shiver, stumbles into the wall with eyes still on the stringy fluid pooling at the water's edge.

_Shit._

"Open up!" A fist is pounding on the bathroom door. "What the hell are you doing in there?"

 _Holy_ shit.

He quickly flushes the toilet and rushes over to the sink. "Coming outside," he calls back, over the sound of suds and sinkwater as he dumps soap all over his hands. Lather and rinse. Lather and rinse. It's  _repulsive,_ disgusting _-_ he can feel his insides revolting again, already, and he suppresses the thoughts with a shudder.

"How long does it take to wash your hands?"

An eternity wouldn't be enough, but he forces himself to shut off the water and grab the towel. Once he's done, he opens the door, slowly, and steps into the light. Sure enough, Eren's standing there, with the remainder of his twenty-pack still crumpled in his hand and his brows furrowed in dark, dark confusion.

"On second thought, I'll have one," Levi mutters. When Eren doesn't respond right away, he sneers and clarifies. "A _cigarette_."

Eren frowns at him suspiciously. "I'm not gonna give you a cigarette, Levi," he sighs, enunciating the last syllable of his name with a heavy nicotine exhale. "You're seriously too young."

_Too young.  
_

"Fine," he mumbles, and attempts to shove past Eren. His brain's calm now, but his body can't seem to handle the quick movement - and, suddenly, Levi feels his legs give out from underneath him and then he's tripping in slow-mo clarity, falling over the shower mat as the heat waves wash over him and the nausea swells again-

But he never hits the floor. He looks up, and instead of the ceiling he sees Eren's stormy eyes, something akin to anger on his face, a slip of white bared through barely-parted lips. "There's something on your chin," he murmurs, and seconds too late Levi realizes that he forgot to wipe off all the puke.

_Damn it._

"Let go of me," he mumbles.

Eren lets go of him.

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Eren reaches for his pack with a growl of resignation. "Shit, just... just take it." He tosses Levi a Camel, which the latter barely manages to snag between his fingers. "Need a lighter?"

The thought rises, unbidden, to the front of Levi's mind, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from blushing like an idiot. "No," he says, and slips the cigarette into his mouth. Then he rises up, up onto the tips of his toes, closes his eyes and breathes a deep, stable breath. The sick feeling in his gut is enough to make him stumble a little as he steps nearer to Eren, because he hasn't been this close to a person's lips since - since the last time he was this close to an actual human being.

He presses a hand to his forehead to calm the sudden dizziness. And, with one brisk movement, he leans into Eren's mouth (don't pass out, _don't pass out_ ) and touches the tip of his cigarette to Eren's still-burning end. Inwardly, he exalts when Green Eyes doesn't pull away, and he manages to hold steady for a whole three seconds long enough to set his cigarette smoking.

And he backs off. Backs off, looks down. At Eren's chest. Anywhere but his gross, pretty face.

"S-saves your lighter fluid."

 _Fuck._ _I fucking stuttered._

It's a flimsy explanation, and he's even flimsier. He wills himself to stay steady, to relax and inhale despite how naked he's suddenly feeling.

"Weirdo," Eren says again, but this time it's barely above a whisper. He doesn't move, hardly even seems to breathe. The vertigo rises within Levi once more. He gulps, waiting for the final verdict from the tall boy overhead - but only silence meets him.

Silence.

His temples feel like air. Weightless. His intestines roil.

 _Silence._ Pounding silence. It's staggering, and the world's beginning to lose its hard edge. Levi lifts up a wordless curse, a curse to the gods above, as he falls gently forwards into a pair of arms - distant, faded - and the world goes blurry-black around him.


	4. day four

 

The following week is a good one. A _great_ one, really.

The moment he recovered from his quick fainting spell, Levi made Eren swear to forget everything that had happened. He retrieved the Neosporin and did his best to clean Green Eyes' battle wound, the one from whence his falling cigarette had crescendoed through the air like a comet and landed gracefully on that eternally-shoeless foot. Soon afterwards, everything returned to normal, and they wound up in front of the TV again with Eren shooting nervous glances at Levi every five minutes and the latter kicking him on the shin whenever he dared to open his mouth.

After that, Levi sets a nightly routine. If Eren ever notices anything, he doesn't let on - he reads textbooks, talks on the phone, doesn't come home until the early hours of dawn. Levi stays up waiting for him, waiting for the sound of footsteps and door slams, Killing Joke mixtapes and RATM CDs being popped into the boombox as Eren slipps out of his clothing and gyrates his hips to the jagged, spurling shred of guitars.

His movements are martini-smooth. He's not much of a dancer, but seduction seems second-nature to him. He undresses so gracefully, like there's always an audience; all eyes on him as he performs the cross-armed shirt pullover, the pants-fall, the button-down.

Which isn't entirely wrong. He has an audience.

An audience of one.

It's even easier to jack off than it was a week ago. Levi has fuel now, he's got something to go on; he knows the feeling of Eren's skin against his own, the husky lilt of his voice when he laughs. The way his lips look up close, the way he holds a cigarette between his teeth _;_ his words, his stance, his warm, supportive hands - _everything._ For the first time in ages, he has something to look forwards to every night. He's got a way of keeping time that's not just the countless rotations of sun and moon, the endless flurry of skies. By the time Wednesday rolls around, he knows Bulls On Parade by heart. He's read the title of every book on Eren's shelf ten times over. He's snuck into the fridge and popped out the Rum Chata, done it half-drunk and spilling sloppy all over his hands, legs, stomach.

But, most of all, he's... kind of _happy._

It's not a bad life. It gets his mind off things better than a pill, a nightmare, or his secret, dog-eared copy of Philosophy in the Bedroom (courtesy of Mr. America). Torture porn's no good for the soul. Something about Eren, though - something ridiculously, wordlessly attractive, something far beyond the realms of physicality - keeps Levi going. It makes him look forwards to waking up each day.

Still, he can't help but bide his time and wait for the bomb to drop. He's lived just long enough to know that all good things must come to an end. The fluttery feeling that Green Eyes gives him, spread out and stripped on the bed, is pure transgression.

And God's just waiting for a chance to strike.

 

-

 

The moment he hears the other voice, he knows there's something wrong.

"Are you sure about the... the whole makeup thing? It's kind of overblown."

Whoever's talking, it's definitely _not_ Eren. The speaker is light; soft to his heavy, smooth to his hoarse.

"Yeah, it's totally... uh, what's that word... kish-ee?" That's Eren, for sure. His words are faint, growing stronger as Levi can hear him enter the bedroom through the open door. "Like, you know-"

"Kitschy?" He can almost hear the eyebrow quirk in that tone. "Um, you call that kitschy...?"

Green Eyes' head pops into view through the dirty, slacking blinds, followed quickly by arms and a torso. For a few moments, it's hard to make out what he's wearing in the darkness - but when the other boy reaches over, switches on the lamp, he turns towards the window and Levi can see-

Oh.

My.

_God._

Fucking Satan couldn't look that unholy if he tried.

Thigh-high nylons, like the kind you hear singers herald in sex ballads. A petroleum-sleek garter belt with -  _fuck,_ is that latex? - underwear that's hugging his crotch in the sluttiest way imaginable. A corset that stops halfway up his chest, three industrial-grade belt buckles like an oil slick barring their way to the tight skin beneath. His gaze gleams with something between _fuck me_ and _fuck you_ and he's decked out in cheap black eyeshadow and even cheaper black eyeliner, some brown-porcelain goth babydoll with hair twice as messy as usual and Levi knows what's about to happen; it's only going to get messier, but he can't will himself to look away just yet.

He's not just pretty. He's _beautiful_. Bondage ethereal. Shining like a black vinyl star.

However, the other boy doesn't seem to be on quite on board yet. "Is this supposed to be a joke? It's so... it's so..."

"Shitty? Fuck yeah, Armin, they'll dig it."

The moment that Armin steps into full view, a small sound of _what-the-hell_ escapes through Levi's thinned lips, and he almost loses it completely. If he thought Eren was wild, well - this kid's like a fucking latex _party_. A lollipop-pink latex party, actually, and his embarrassment is hilarious to behold. His corset has bows, whistles and bells, his waist is silk and his thighs are gartered with wedding lace and he's got the sweetest spun-gold angel pubes that Levi's ever seen. He reminds Levi of a cat, for some reason; maybe because it's not hard to envision him being lead around on a leash. His outfit is revealing in all the places that Eren's isn't, and it's suddenly obvious how perfectly _opposite_ they are, like they planned it out beforehand and went shopping together at some kinky Kiki de Monteparnasse knockoff. All precious and boyfriend-like.

It would be really cute if Levi didn't hate the idea so much.

They climb into a gorgeous tangle on Eren's bed, and Armin leans over to put something on the nightstand that looks suspiciously like a recording device. "Does my ass look okay?"

His _ass_ is right up in Eren's face. Levi sneers, and Green Eyes laughs. "Looks great," he says, with a wicked smile. "Undress me?"

"Mhm," Armin murmurs absently. He sits back down, turns towards Eren, straddles him with a look of mommy-like concentration. "Just the underwear?"

"Yeah." Eren lounges, stretches back as Armin's fingers crawl into his corset gaps, feeling around for an entrance. Levi swallows roughly. The blonde boy gives a few frustrated tugs before letting out some wordless sigh of exasperation; Eren laughs at him, calls him a dork, and in one quick, irritated movement Armin seizes him by the shoulders and flips him over onto his back. Eren's laughter turns into a snarl, but still, he stays - he lets Armin hook nails around the wetlook rubber and pull it down, down, down his legs, making red streak-marks all the way from soft-skinned thigh to ankle. Eren gives a strange little shudder when Armin leans into him, presses his hips closer and slides the bondage panties off his feet.

"You're already hard," Armin observes dryly.

"Shaddup."

Then, Blondie whips out his dick - for lack of a better description - and backs into the shadows for a moment, presses something on the recorder and grabs a previously-unseen packet of lube off the shelf. With systematic accuracy, he dips his fingers into the stuff and gently clambers on top of Eren, knocks against him ever-so-slightly as he massages the vulnerable parts around and near his crotch.

"Shhh," he soothes. "Spread."

Levi watches it all. Eren balks just to piss Armin off, making a show of his reluctance. Lace-And-Garters puts his finger in, squirms around and gasps a pretty little gasp when Eren purposefully rubs against his legs. Finger number two has Green Eyes' face in the pillow, fabric snagged between his teeth. It's hard to tell whether or not he's exaggerating. By finger number three, he's making odd, wet little grunting noises, twisting his thighs and sending heat pangs sparking straight down Levi's spine to his gut.

"Hurry," Eren pleads. It's weird to hear him beg.

Armin giggles - a light, musical sound that's more akin to mockery than laughter. "So impatient."

A heavy _n_ _ngh_ is all he gets in reply. Thankfully, Armin doesn't seem in the mood to play sex-hooky; he lathers up, slides his fingers out and licks them one-by-one with a ridiculous, tantalizing slowness. "Ready?"

"The fuck I am," Green Eyes snaps. He gives a half-rabid fling of his head, a swivel of his hips to solidify the point. Armin giggles again, and places a pair of steady hands on his ass.

The sound he makes when Armin enters him is unearthly. It's not really human, almost demonic; kind of like the keening of a dying animal, starting in a low moan and arching high, so high, climbing into the humid night air like Jacob's Ladder and wrapping itself around Levi's cold shoulders, squeezing him hot from head to head.

He looks downwards, away. It's so dark in his room, it's dark outside. The only light shines on Eren's spread legs and Armin's zippered back, curving into Eren as Eren curves into him. Each movement is like a snapshot in time, a freeze-frame in the shadows. Nothing seems fluid. Jerky, unstable. Distorted.

It's like a bad acid trip, almost. But everything's much too real.

He can practically feel the blood rushing to his stomach.

_I don't want to._

But his hips aren't listening.

 _"More,"_ he hears Eren hiss, far too loudly to ignore. "Shit, Armin -  _unf_ \- don't be a _pussy!"_

The slam of bedposts answers him, a high-pitched choke comes in reply. Shoulders thumping against the headboard, more harsh commands - all sounds dissolving into a soft, lyrical beat of sex and music and Levi cringing with the pain of something he doesn't want to name.

He doesn't want to see what's happening. He really doesn't want to know. He doesn't-

But he does.

He lifts his eyes to the window once more.

"I'm trying, but - you have to bend over _farther_ , Eren," Armin says, as his hands find a fistful of Eren's hair. He's somewhere between out and halfway out, rolling his eyes like he's ten years old.

"I don't need your help," Eren groans, but that doesn't stop him from allowing a small, slender hand to push his head further into the pillow, a pale set of hips to thrust him farther apart. "Oh, _God-_ "

Levi can see the blonde boy smiling softly, even through the shadows, with a placidity that belies his sex-tousled locks. "Told you so," he murmurs, and trails his hands along Eren's spine, watching his back arch with a half-moaned giggle.

"Armin, stop fucking around!"

"But you're so ticklish," he protests, lightly, and adjusts his oncoming attack.

"Yeah - _nnh!_ " Eren grunts as Armin slams into him, driving him into the pillow. "Tickle - tickle me with your _dick_ instead!"

"Ew," Armin laughs, and he leans in closer to Eren with a horrible, irksome litheness, like he doesn't even realize how fucking lucky he is right now, like he doesn't care and he can't even _afford_ to.

And, before he knows it, Levi's pressing himself against the window, grinding his hips into the glass as he watches the scene play out like an amateur sex tape before him. His fingers claw for something that's not there, and the desperation only makes him harder; everything he wants is just out of his reach, but it's close enough to taunt him, turn him into a masochist because he can't quite turn away. His hands find the wooden frame, and they cling tight as his spine melds with the pane and his body melts into dismal desire. His jaw's slightly unhinged, he's grasping because it's so perfectly unfulfilling - it makes him even angrier, not having his hand down there, and now he's just taunting himself with his own weakness and it makes him want to tear apart the distance between their yards, those few feet of separation because - oh, god, he's so needy, so _pathetic_ -

He gasps out a moan of self-revulsion, watching Armin's hands go where his own can't, and now his arousal is screaming out like an itch he can't scratch.

It's not jealousy. It's not like he cares.

It's not like he's even  _considering_ it right now. It's not like his fingers are currently slipping under the cincture of his thin pajama pants, wrapping themselves around his-

_Shit._

He's so hard it hurts.

"C-christ," Eren pleads, roughly, and everything in his eyes is screaming _more, more, more._ Armin sings like a fucking nightingale. His flaxen hair falls in waves all over Eren, leaving dewdrops and teeth marks in its wake. He draws a pattern of gentle, red-blue lovebites across the bare part of Eren's neck - then, his right hand gives a sudden, affectionate squeeze that has Green Eyes swearing obscene, huffing like a locomotor and rutting into Blondie's dick.

Levi's half-straddling the bay now, somewhere between the splits and bared-ass doggystyle as his hands move anti-rhythm, foil to the boys fucking on the other side - he picks up the slack of their silence, whenever they pause for tender touches then he's sliding faster, faster, making wet sucking noises with everything but his mouth. It's hard not to make noises. It's hard not to push himself forwards, pitch into the window and imagine; feel, that it's not cold and flat but warm and curved and big, surrounding him instead of holding him hostage.

_Fuck._

God must've been really pissed off at him this time.

 _I'm too young for this shit,_ he thinks dully as he spits hair out of his mouth, dragging sweat-locked strands away from his forehead with a finger that's already sticky as hell, and it smells like hell and he's sure he looks like hell, too. There's that mirror again, and he has bags under his eyes from long nights and lust, and he's _young,_ so fucking _young_  and the anger on his face is awful to behold. Fucking come stains on his pants and something gross on the windowframe that, god knows how, he managed to miss while cleaning-

Eren's praising Jesus now. His stripper sex-Cure clothes are liquid against his skin, melting into his movements and drunken, red lipstick smearing the edges of his mouth and Armin's cheeks and their intertwined fingers. Armin's got him with his hands strung behind his back, holding him in a lover's handcuff and supporting him with the width of his thighs as he thrusts, rears back, and that last strong, body-quaking seizure tells Levi that he's finally done.

Eren follows in the next few seconds, in almost perfect synchronization. It's a fucking bedroom hymnal then. Armin presses downwards, like he's trying to swallow Eren with his hips. Hand meets hair, again, and they're falling together in a heap, whispering and laughing and coating each other in jizz.

"Turn it off already," Armin says, muffled by Eren's chest in his face.

He kicks up, slings his legs over Armin's back and grumbles to himself. "Lazy," he snaps, but nevertheless flings a sloppy hand in the camera's approximate direction, slamming around until he finds it. Then he subsides, collapses on to the bed and spreads across, a youthful Lucifer filling the bedsheets with his ungainly grace.

 _Hurry up, hurry up._ Shit, it's hard for him to keep it up while he's trying to keep down everything else. He's almost there, but he's not there, and he's almost ready to burst.

Heavy breaths. "I want - I _want_ -"

_What is it?_

He doesn't have a right. He doesn't have a right to anything about Eren. Not his lips, his hips, his dick - and he knows it. He knows it; he doesn't even have a right to jealousy.

But still, he can't help but feel betrayed.

Eren is his fantasy. _His_ wet dream.

(And Armin's lover.)

He hates himself more and more with every thrust of his fingers. The wetness is uncontrollable, inside and out, and he doesn't care how much he's hurting himself anymore; he has to find that spot, nirvana, before he comes.

They're kissing now. And it's not just sex. It's intimate. They're making love. Levi's committing a cardinal sin.

He shouldn't be watching this.

The camera's already off.

Despite himself, he can't bite back a giggle when he sees that Eren's hard _again,_ and he hears Armin making the same observation with an exasperated sigh. Playfully, the latter brushes his fingers against the slit, comes up already slick with clear fluid. Eren's light, lucid gasp draws a violent twitch from Levi's cock. He grips it against his palm, once more, and tries not to fall apart.

He knows he's close now, but his jerks are mechanical; his thighs shiver and shake like a dysfunctional machine, and his breathing is punctuated with irregular, ragged gasps. That hot space in between his legs is already liquified, his hand's a mess and he's soaked all over but, even still, he can't rouse himself enough to care. He thrusts his fingers in and out to the tempo of his psyche, floating just beneath the surface in that small, sticky place between the dirty stuff under the sheets and red-faced glory. Filled to the brim with dull, overdue sex and heaven like he's already left the earth; the only thing left in his line of vision is Eren, Armin stroking him into a sodden puddle of vinyl and spit-drenched kisses and sporadic, sleepy animal thrusts.

And that's it.

That's _it._

That's all it was.

It's everywhere and it's over. He sinks onto his hands, pins his arms between both legs. Too mad, too bad, too maybe-sad to take them out and clean up just yet. He needs to see what happens next.

Eren lets out a long, low hiss and it looks like he might be coming again tonight, seconds after Levi, except Armin sighs in unison and pauses, takes his hand off Green Eyes' hard-on and smears milky fingertips all over the bed. "I have class tomorrow morning," he says, and it sounds like a casual apology.

Eren looks kind of disappointed, _fuck him_. "Oh... okay," he murmurs, and barely even stirs from his tired position when Armin climbs off the sheets, leaving some questionable wet marks in his wake. He preens himself, almost - cat-like, dusting something invisible off his pretty princess PVC, grabs the camera off its perch. "You keep the lube," he says, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I don't need it," Eren moans, flopping over onto his back, but Armin's already shut the door behind him. After a minute or so, Levi sees the front door crack open, and Blondie's in a black trenchcoat with matching, needle-heel stilettoes, a come-hither gap of skin under his chin that's just enough to allow a peek of his corset.

_Stilettos._

Levi's mind is racing. Hooker? No, no. They were far too familiar. Plus, Armin was recording. But maybe that's part of his job?

Whatever. It's not making him feel any better to try and solve the mystery. He's fairly sure that he hears Eren making weird noises somewhere outside his bedroom door, but he can't be quite sure. There's a suspicious gap, though, between the time he exits his room and when the shower comes creaking into life, but Levi can't bring himself to be disappointed that Eren didn't finish himself somewhere within window view.

What was he hoping for, anyways?

What was he hoping Eren could give him?

_Nothing. You're nothing._

He kicks the blanket off him with an angry, tearful sneer. The extra heat makes him feel even dirtier, and if he wasn't some stupid, anxious freak he'd run outside through the cool night air, run outside and scream away all the lust, desire, the hellfire he can't control.

He doesn't even want Eren anymore. It's not his pretty eyes or his wide smile. It's what he _has._ It's what he has, what Levi can only fantasize about. They're both trapped. They're both surrounded from all sides, by the peeling streets and gunshots and wilted bushes and brick walls, walls, walls fifty feet high.

But Eren's not really trapped.

Levi's the one who can't get out.

 

-

 

Farlan's whispers chase him into sleep that night. He hears bullets whistle in the distance, maybe somewhere in the back of his mind. He closes his eyes still horny, still hating himself like he did that day.

_Nothing. You're nothing._

Blood. Blood and cum.

Those two words are his everything.


	5. day five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentines day

 

Fourteen days.

Fourteen agonizing days.

Every time he tries to construct a vision of Eren in his mind, that moonlit form he knows so well - it slips away like a dream, leaving his heart hungry and his thighs lonely with desire.

He hasn't caught head nor tails of Green Eyes for two whole weeks, not since that stint with Blondie. The car in front of his house still disappears sometimes, comes back just in time for sunset (or, sometimes it doesn't), but he always manages to escape through the front door without being seen.

Levi gets off without having anything to get off to. He's just touching himself out of fucking _boredom_ now, because there's nothing to do, and ever since Eren, nothing else can make him cum.

He's tried, sorta-kinda. There was Erwin, once, and sometimes - in his ultimate desperation - he tries to zero in on the memories.

Farlan had been so pissed when he heard about it all. He rode Levi's ass for a week afterwards, called him a slut once or twice - but even Isabela could hear the envy in his words. Unfortunately, Levi hadn't realized until it was too late. The strange, little dynamic that he and Farlan perpetuated; bad words, angry tears of overprotective spite - it was a teensy thing called _love._

He knows he's disrespecting Farlan. He knows that already, but he can't help it. There's no point in lying to himself now, it's a fucking problem, an _addiction_ \- with a comedown worse than any he's ever known, because the wrongness is so easy to deny until the deed is done. And it doesn't matter how old you are, he's beginning to realize; it doesn't matter how old you are when it happens. That first injection can come as early as childhood, just to steal it all away. It sodomizes your innocence and leaves you starving, crazy, hormonal for more.

In that way, he supposes, he has Erwin to thank. Erwin taught him the dangers of the big Ess-Ee-Ex. Erwin taught him what daddy issues could do. Erwin used protection before Levi really understood what it meant, or why.

If it had been Farlan, then god knows - he'd never have forgiven himself.

It's kind of wild to consider what he used to be, compared to what he is now. And where he might be years in the future. Without Eren in the picture, he's forced to see himself and himself alone for what he is.

_Disgusting._

 

-

 

_Music._

His heart soars.

He crosses his fingers, tentatively. Waiting. Listening.

"She said, c'mon baby... got a license for love," he's singing, and in the dark his silhouette is dipping, spinning, and then the lamp comes on and he's there.

He's beautiful, and he's _there_.

Fuck.

He stars with button number one, and Levi gets the unnerving sensation that Eren's staring right at him, though rationally he knows there's no way he could be seen. Instinctively, he slinks backwards off the sill, veils himself in shadow as Eren moves down to number two, three, and by six or seven it's hanging off his shoulders and he lets it slide right off and drop to the floor.

The familiar warmth flashes through him like a lightning bolt, like a really soft embrace-

_ Like a dagger. _

He remembers Armin, and the spark dies hard within him.

Eren is shirtless now. And in three, two, one - pantless, too. In the icy starlight he looks kind of almost eerie, and the silhouette of the blinds on his back are dappling him with little snowflakes.

Suddenly, Levi feels very cold.

Green Eyes, bluish-gray in the night, falls onto his bed and lays there for a few moments. Gazing up at the ceiling, his chest rises and falls in the motion of a sigh that Levi can't quite hear. He looks almost forlorn, if that were a look imaginable on him - but it's not. Eren is a great many things. But never forlorn.

The expression on his face is alien. Levi has never seen it before. And he can't quite interpret it, to the point where it's unnerving, and he's considering passing up this precious opportunity because the wrongness of it all, the sickness, the _not-rightness,_ is finally getting to him and killing off his desire.  


He's about to slink back into bed, when - holy Christ.

Eren reaches for his dick, and a chill runs down the length of Levi's spine. It doesn't take much thought to determine that he should promptly follow suit.

This is  _new._

With eagle eyes on Eren, Levi mimics his movements, only half-aware of what he's doing and where Eren is shooting furtive glances every minute or so. His concentration is only on the little-but-big things, like the way Eren keeps pausing at the base of each stroke to shudder, the way he takes deep breaths to steady himself and subdue the graceless tremors of his legs. His grip is sloppy, his fingers go wherever his pleasure is the greatest. He's not meticulous like Levi. Sometimes he struggles to keep quiet. Slowly, he sinks into the sheets, and other hand thrusts itself outwards, searching, to find stability. He pushes up against the wall. His knees curve into an upwards tangle, and his feet mix themselves with the bedcover.  


Each movement enters Levi's line of vision like a disjointed still. They reflect upon his retina, but never quite makes their journey down the optic nerve; they bypass his brain and go straight to the place that fuels his fire. Vaguely, he knocks against the glass - _shit._ Just once, but it's a big mistake.

Thankfully, Eren doesn't seem to notice. There's a little wet spot forming in the valley between his thighs. _Gross._ Levi wonders to himself. _Does he ever wash his sheets?_

He doesn't question why Eren's doing what he's doing. He can't allow himself to do that.

They keep going like that - Levi consciously imitating Eren, methodical but improvised, and Eren in his own, secluded world of warmth. Slowly, Levi's eyes seal shut, to aid in the climax. Across the expanse of darkness, he can still hear what Eren's doing, occasionally whispering; little prayers to himself, his penis, and heaven. The shortwave frequencies crackle between them, connecting them, with static and silence.

He loses track of time. It only seems like a few seconds, but his ears tell him he lasted much longer by the time his thighs release their tension. He opens his eyes. He blinks the daze out of them, and tries to spot where his mess has gone.

"Hey, Levi?"

Levi freezes. His heart stops.

"You done yet?"

 _Eren._ Eren's speaking to him. Addressing him. Through the window. Like he knows-

"Hurry the fuck up. I gotta talk to you."

_Shit._

Levi nearly falls off the window bay in shock, but he manages to recollect himself last-second and fling out a hand behind him for support. He's slicking up the wood with cum but right now that's the least of his worries; he can think about that later, because right now Eren's staring straight at him, searching for him through the blinds, quirking his head to the side and narrowing his eyebrows like he's a little kid playing I-Spy with the creep next door.

His mouth is dryer than the desert when he opens it to speak, and he knows it's probably a terrible idea to respond, but something drives him to do it. Something pushes him to answer.

"What?"

"Oh, good, you're still there," Eren says, and Levi can see him gush with relief. "Can you open your blinds?"

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He's swearing under his breath at a million words per minute, mind racing like a German torpedo boat. The more he tries to puzzle his way out of the situation, the deeper he's engulfed in futility. There's nowhere to turn now. If he hadn't said anything, then maybe - but Eren knows he's there, and he's probably been there for minutes, waiting, and that means he must've heard _everything-_

Damn it.

_I should've stopped while I had the chance._

Sullenly, Levi complies, tugging on the window thread until the blinds are up, and he's suddenly face-to-face with a sweaty, sex-haired college boy glistening like morning dew at night.

And grinning. Sheepishly, but still grinning. Then, his gaze falls on Levi and he gives a strange, little jerk of his shoulders, turning away with flush.

"Ah - _uh!_ Go put - put some clothes on!"

Then Levi remembers that he's naked.

He shrugs, but doesn't obey. "So, how much did you hear?" he asks dully, waiting for Eren to pry open his fingers and look up.

"Are you dressed?"

"No."

Green Eyes' gaze flickers conspicuously about Levi's anatomy. "Well... all of it. You'd be surprised how loud you are."

_Fuck.  
_

"I've known about it since the night before Armin came over," he continues. "You're really not that subtle."

_Holy fuck._

"You thought Armin was my boyfriend, right?" Eren presses onwards, either not noticing or completely disregarding Levi's furious shame. "So? Is that what you thought?" When the silhouette on the other side doesn't waver, he keeps going. "Well, he's not... at least, not anymore. Armin's in the business with me. We've been together for a really long time... sometimes we collaborate and stuff. For videos. Cams. But we don't fuck each other for free, these days."

Silence.

Then, finally: "Why're you telling me this? You think I care?

"You're a client," Eren says briskly. "It's your right to know."

_A client._

That shouldn't hurt him like it does. 

"So, you're gonna make me pay for the show from here on out? Since you've caught onto me and all?" Levi knows he sounds icy, but he can't make himself care. He doesn't bother to keep the acid out of his tone when he speaks.

It's Eren's turn to look away here. "Well..."

Levi stares at him. "Well, what?"

"It's - it's weird, I know," he murmurs, low, quick words meshing together, climbing in heat as he clenches his fists. "I thought you were the dirty one. But I - I couldn't stop thinking about it once I found out, and I - I'm not - look, I was... shit, I was hard before he even touched me, okay? God  _damn._ "

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Eren just shakes his head, frowning miserably. "I couldn't sleep in there knowing that you were... that you watching me, and so I ended up moving to the couch, trying to get my thoughts together, because... I felt gross. I felt _nasty._ Rich, considering what I am, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"You!" he bursts out, finally, eyes glinting and teeth bared in desperate exasperation. "That's what I got off to! _You!_ "

By the tone of his voice, Levi figures that Eren wants him to be disgusted, shocked, _anything_. But, despite how confused Green Eyes is looking, across the yard from him, shot with starlight and electrified by regret - it's hard to feel anything but numb relief.

"If you're not mad, then I'm not."

Eren exhales, the guilt evaporating from his face. A smile, like a truce, eases its way back onto his lips, and Levi suddenly feels an intense remorse for him. For his self-blame. "I guess... we're both perverts, aren't we?"

"You're not that bad." _You weren't even in the wrong. You're the victim, stupid. Not the sinner.  
_

"What do you mean?"

For one rabid moment, Levi considers telling him everything - about Erwin, about Farlan, about his sickness and insatiability. But, after the heat flares and dies, he thinks better, resolving just to stare demurely. "I have problems."

"No, fucking, _shit,_ Sherlock."

Levi doesn't reply to that.

"So..." Eren twitches his head to the side, stretches awkwardly, and cat-arches his back like he's trying to fill the gaps in their conversation with movement. Even the moon seems to be frozen in time, confused, suspended in anticipation. "...What now?"

Levi frowns. "Don't ask me." _Stupid._ "You're the one who called me out."

"Well... yeah," Green Eyes affirms. "So don't do that shit anymore."

"Fine."

Inwardly, though, Levi's heart is strangled with gratitude. It's the most he could have hoped for out of the worst case scenario; Eren _isn't mad._ Eren is still _talking to him._ Blondie's identity, his relationship with Eren, their strange history together - it's all irrelevant right now. The only thing that's important at this point in time is that Eren has blessed him with forgiveness for his transgressions, something that he could never be worthy enough to receive. It means that there is still hope for whatever ugly, mutated feelings of adoration Levi harbors towards this enigmatic boy.

It's no longer a question of pure desire. 

"Hey," Eren says, suddenly, before a yawn overtakes his visage. His arms go up in the air as he stiffens his back once more. "I'm going to bed, all right?"

Levi lets out a held breath. "Okay."

"And I'm gonna buy some curtains." Eren makes a face at Levi through the shadows, seemingly at ease again. "Good night."

Levi watches him stumble onto his mattress, still lacking clothes. He curls up into a fetal position, closes his eyes, and doesn't open them again. Awake, but unreachable. He doesn't move until Eren is snoring softly, forming small drool puddles on his sheets - then, he leaves his guardpost and slips back into the darkness of his room.

"Good night."


	6. day six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, I'm back, if anyone's still interested. after two years. yeah. needless to say, a lot's been going on, but I always come back to this goddamn fucking crapshow and the wonderful comments that have been left here over the months. it's kind of sad tbh but I guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks? anyways I love you all and this pos is probably one of the best fics I've ever written (unfortunately). so here you go. the time has finally come. i hope you enjoy this chapter, because you deserve it.

 

 

"Hey." _That fucking sunhat again._ "I'm your babysitter."

Levi's mother hardly left him with an excuse this time, claiming that she didn't want him to be alone on the fourth of July.  _Like hell it matters._ She told him she was going to pick up the check, and head downtown to do god-knows-what for a night.

 _Just don't get shot in an alley,_ Levi thinks, dully, as he looks down at the boy on the porchstep. His heart is thrumming like a busted idle. He breathes in the fresh scent of _eau du Eren_ , and lets it wash over him like cool air, like cherry popsicle juice in the summer.

"I know."

Eren steps inside and lets the door slam behind him. The sun filters through the glass pane, framing him with an aureola of golden, midmorning gloriousness. He smells like stale B.O. and dirt and garden flowers, and there's a smudge of soil on his right cheekbone, but he looks better. He looks good, refreshed, tanned; not strange and sad and pale like he did last night. Levi can't really blame him for that, but his weird attitude seemed to be coming from other places. Like, _not_ the fact he'd discovered a little jerkoff prying on his private parts - something else, something that a certain neighbor could never hope to understand.

"We're going over to my house today," Eren declares, and a shockwave hits Levi tidal.

"Why?"

Eren flashes him a canine grin. "We're putting up the curtains."

_Oh._

And, just like that, the excitement dies. The butterflies go whooshing out of his gut with a rush of air that manifests itself as a disgruntled sigh - one loud enough for Green Eyes to hear. "Yeah, well, you fucking deserve it," Eren grumbles, only half-jokingly.

Levi decides not to remind Eren of the one time he tried to go outside on the porch for a while; he seems to have forgotten all about that disaster. Or, the significance of it all never registered with him. Either way, it doesn't look like there's a choice.

"Give me your sunhat," Levi says, then furrows his brow. His golden word is rusty. " _Please_."

"Wh-" Eren looks at him for a moment, then stops his objection. "Okay."

He tosses it to Levi, with the gloated elation of having elicited a surly preteen's manners in his gaze. Together, they hop down the steps to the broken-stone walkway, out onto the sidewalk and up Eren's little driveway. His is only half as weed-infested as the Ackermans', with small garden rakes and shovels marking the path to his porchstep. With a dull heatflash of shock, Levi realizes he's never actually seen Green Eyes' front door. He doesn't know what lies beyond it, either.

His breath, without conscious thought, has sped up to a runner's pace.

"It's okay," Eren says, strangely.

Levi ignores him, and watches as his long, brown arm swings upwards like a whole-grain noodle. One good jostle, a pull and a twist, and they're inside.

* * *

It's pretty much the same thing as his house, but somehow, Eren's bedroom manages to be a lot messier than Levi's.

"I don't leave mine," Levi says, when Eren questions the state of his. "But I clean it."

"Whatever," Eren snorts. "Bet your walls are covered in-"

"I _clean_ it," Levi snarls, handing Eren the curtain rod he's been carrying so that Green Eyes knows he's not really offended.

"All right. So..." Eren glances down at his diminutive companion, and for the first time, he seems to register how small the boy actually is. Levi pretends not to notice. "Where's that curtain?"

"Right here." Obediently, Levi holds out the shrink-wrapped object of punishment. "You're not going to measure anything beforehand?"

Eren shrugs. "Nah. Just gonna eyeball it. Brackets?"

One by one, Levi hands Eren the items he requests, nearly and only half-accidentally dropping the drill on his foot as he hands it over. As Green Eyes mounts the rod, Levi is left sitting cross-legged in the midst of a hurricane of uncleanliness. He glances at the grubby alarm clock by the side of Eren's bed. _Noon._ They have all day together, which is both an exciting and terrifying prospect. There seems to be little in the way of awkwardness between them; nonetheless, their situation is almost too good to be true. Levi can't help but think that Eren's disguising his anger with nonchalance.

By the time Green Eyes finishes installing the curtain, boredom has worked its effect on Levi. He's already set to organizing the textbooks in alphabetical order, making Eren's bed, and creating a dirty laundry pile in the corner. Hardly noticing the busybody whirlwind surrounding him, Eren steps off of his makeshift dictionary-ladder and begins to pack away the dusty drill and bit set. Once every piece has been accounted for, he stands up and steps back to admire a job questionably-done.

"Fuck. I can't believe I had to put up curtains because of a chronic masturbator."

It's said with an exaggerated sigh, bearing no genuine ill-will. Glancing over his shoulder and hoping to get a reaction, Eren finally registers the organized chaos that said chronic masturbator has wreaked upon his room.

"Wow." His gaze flits from the stack of sweat-tainted unmentionables in the corner, to the sleep-ready sheets, to the neatly-arranged books on his desk. "It didn't occur to you to ask my permission before you fucked with my shit?"

Levi scowls and shrugs.

"Well, I guess I have nothing to hide from you." Eren lets out a deep sigh and walks over to the edge of the bed where Levi is sitting and plops down next to him. "So, uh... what do you want to do now?"

 _So close._ Levi's heartbeat immediately doubles in pace, blood pounding in his ears and thrumming in his wrists. Eren's left thigh is an inch away from touching his own, and yet there's nothing there that suggests a consideration of their previous conversation - not a spark nor a sliver. Either Green Eyes is just as nervous as Levi, and he's freakishly talented at maintaining a facade, or he's truly irrelevant to what happened between them. Or maybe he's already blocked it out of his mind.

"You could be more grateful. For starters." _Sarcasm. Always a safe bet._

Eren frowns. "So? I am. How am I supposed to prove my gratefulness to you, oh-ye-who-doubt?"

"However you want." Levi swallows, now acutely aware of the fact that he's never said this boy's name to his face. "...Eren."

 _There! That's it!_ The shade of a glimmer of heat, visible for a split-second in his eyes.

"Well, you know... I could use a smoke."

_And it's gone._

Levi wants to shout with frustration, but it's not like him to raise his voice, so he doesn't. Daring himself to meet Eren's gaze, he realizes that Green Eyes is avoiding looking at him directly. He's scrounging through his back pocket, eyes downward cast, with his brown shock of hair obscuring the majority of his expression. Part of his baby-blue tank top is riding up, revealing a slim, slender line of brown, and in that moment, Levi makes up his mind.

It's now or never.

"That's bad for you."

Eren freezes. Levi can almost hear the breath catch in his throat.

They're still sitting down in the same position, but Levi has leaned across Green Eyes' lap, his hand precariously close to the lightning-charged spot that resides between the college boy's legs. With an iron grip that Levi knows is much stronger than the size of his arm would suggest, he's caught Eren's wrist mid-grab, intercepting his reach for the cigarettes. Like a stop-motion picture, they are paralyzed in time; in complete silence, the calm before the storm. The dull buzz of the cicadas outside is like the thundering voice of God, making his judgements before Moses on Mount Sinai.

_For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father..._

"You... what are you doing?" Eren whispers.

Levi presses his lips together in a thin, thin line. He prays that Eren can't feel how fast his heart is racing.

"You know what I'm doing."

"Do I?" Eren grins, but it's an incredibly shaky grin, made even less convincing by his forced laugh. "I'm... I'm not really sure what this is about, Levi, but it's kind of weird-"

"You know exactly what this is about." He lays his arm firmly across Eren's lap, forming a bridge between them - and now, he can feel the signs of life beginning to manifest themselves between those lovely, denim-clad thighs.

_Stay calm._

Levi has played this routine before. His mother was a prostitute, and he learned it from her. He perfected it with Farlan. He practiced it on Erwin. And now he's laying it thick on Eren. He doesn't want Green Eyes to perceive him as innocent, not even remotely - he wants the seventh veil to drop, the illusions to be dispelled; he wants Eren to know that Levi Ackerman is as every bit as disgusting and fucked-up as any person who could ever, and would _ever_ , want to sleep with him.

Eren continues to shy away from him, but with less and less resistance as he speaks. "Look, Levi, you're... you're assuming that I want you, but... you couldn't be farther from the truth."

Even as he protests, his crotch is pressing harder against Levi's arm, creating a stark, almost-humorous counter to his words of denial. The sensation threatens to throw Levi off track, but he doesn't let it. Leaning in close, rubbing his forearm ever-so-slightly against Green Eyes' shame and salvation; all he can think about is what it looks like, under there, right now. And that pushes him to continue.

"Yeah, right. You've been trying to push it out of your mind all week. I can tell." He works a scornful smile onto his face, knowing that the scarcity of it will provide greater leverage to his words. It's not easy, but he thinks it's working. "Say it: _I wanna fuck you, Levi_."

Eren swallows hard. Immediately, Levi realizes he's pushed too far, but he doesn't have time to react before Eren reaches down and locks his hand around his churning wrist. "Stop it, Levi." Now, there's real anger flashing in his eyes - tinged with a hint of green, green shame. "You have no idea what the fuck you're doing."

"I don't?" He tries to pull his arm out of Eren's grasp, but he's too small and Eren is too big to fight against.

"Listen, Levi, I know you think you're an adult, but you're not, and I know it's been hard for you but I'm making the decision to end it right here. The game is up. I'm sorry about last night. I wasn't thinking straight, and-"

"Let go of me," Levi grits out.

Eren stops. His eyes widen slightly at Levi's tone.

" _You_ think you're so fucking grown up," Levi growls. "But you're just as fucked-up as I am. I bet you were just like me, and I bet you're afraid that I'll end up just like you. I'm right, aren't I?"

Eren doesn't move. His eyes are fixated on Levi's lips, his expression a picture of utter shock.

"We're both addicted to sex. I need it, you need it - shit, Armin needs it. And that's just how it is." Levi swallows hard before plunging onwards. "So, maybe we can help each other. Maybe this isn't as bad as you think. Maybe you can fix me. And I can fix you."

After a few moments of heavy silence, Eren loosens his grip. It hovers by his side, uncertain, still clenched and white where his nails are digging into his skin. Levi decides to chance it again. He places his hand directly in Green Eyes' lap, happily surprised to feel that his erection has yet to subside. When he rests the weight of his palm upon Eren's crotch, there's no resistance; only a shuddering sigh, a slight shiver.

Carefully, Levi begins to stroke his bulge, tracing the fly of his jeans with slow, feather-light touches. His movements follow the cues of their surroundings, the electricity in the air - and, as Levi looks up at him, trying to anticipate his next move, Eren lets out a held breath. His eyelids flutter, his hand falls from his pocket and all at once Levi knows that this beautiful, sweaty nineteen-year-old is his.

Still, he won't stop protesting. "Stop it," Green Eyes says, even as a loud sigh betrays him. "You can't do this, it's... it's fucked up."

The devil and the angel on his shoulder are so obvious, so plain, that Levi can almost hear them fighting. Green Eyes' black and white nature, the banality that grants him such power, has been tearing him apart from the inside out. For as long as they've known of each others' existence, the conflict has been raging within his mind. Levi sees it. He's not too young too understand those feelings, and it irritates him that Eren won't look beyond them.

He takes Green Eyes' zipper between two fingers and tugs it down, slowly. "Just shut the fuck up," he snaps. "I like you. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

* * *

He doesn't care that it's undignified. He doesn't think Eren cares, either.

"You're drooling on me," Green Eyes gasps.

Levi doesn't need to see his face to know what his expression looks like right now. Hearing his husky, half-mortified moans as Levi digs his teeth into soft, brown skin - that's more than satisfactory. Clutching tighter, fingernails like claws near Green Eyes' perfect tailbone; he's trying hard to not fall apart completely, but it's so hard to sit up straight when you're melting in someone else's hands.

"Want me to hold you up?"

Levi nods, unable to articulate a full response. Green Eyes wraps his unoccupied arm around the boy's pale, bony back, and assists him in straightening his spine ever-so-slightly. He unsuccessfully tries to keep from arching himself against Eren's supportive palm, while the other one works against him in the most delectably evil way.

"Not going to lie," Eren smiles, "I never thought I'd see you like this."

"I didn't... believe in handjobs... until now," Levi gasps, legs quivering suddenly and deliciously as Eren picks up speed. "The tip, just - just like that, _fff_."

_Erwin only ever wanted to fuck._

"Yeah, I'm surprised that you can even feel this, what with your... habits and all." Earning a particularly reproachful hickey for that comment, Eren exhales heavily against Levi's neck and once again lapses into silence.

Their one-way pleasure session lasts for a couple more minutes, as Eren plays with the droplets of precum precipitating at the tip of Levi's dick. Using them as lube, he runs his hand up, down, up, down, in a gentle-but-firm rhythmic pattern. With three long fingers and a thumb, wrapped tightly around the boy's shaft, he executes a twist-and-flick motion that's more than enough to make the pale boy squirm. Levi latches on to Eren's chest like a lamprey, using the flesh itself to muffle his stunted groans. 

"I'm gonna cum," Levi exhales, suddenly, as the sensation overtakes him without warning. Though it's absolute agony to cut himself off at the brink of orgasm, Levi knows he needs to have self-control; he doesn't want this time to be like all the other times. _And_ he wants to get laid. Throwing his head back and gripping Eren by the shoulders, he pushes the college boy away violently.

"N-no more."

Green Eyes looks down at Levi, startled and empty-handed. "What's wrong?"

"Fuck." He's struggling to get out the words. The urge to finish, to engage himself without further ado is incredibly strong, and it takes everything he has to resist it. His crotch is throbbing, begging for fulfillment.

"Fuck?"

Deep. Inhale. " _Me._ "

Something in Eren's countenance seems to lapse utterly upon hearing Levi deliver his plea. His brows relax, his eyes gloss over, and he seems to understand the full gravity of their situation - there is no going back. His final barrier of self-restraint shatters, and now all the pent-up, painful weeks are laid plain and bare on his face. "God. Levi." He's already taking off his pants. "Get the lube."

In that moment, neither of them care how odd it is that Levi knows the spot of every hidden thing in Eren's room. He reaches behind a heavy volume of _Crime and Punishment_ to find the little bottle of lube and box of unused condoms left by Armin several days before. In a blur of movement, Green Eyes' pants fall in a heap at the edge of his bed, followed by his tightie-whities and any shred of decency that he still possesses. The boy in the latex lingerie has taken over him. And it's mystical.

It's all a rush; a lush, adrenaline-fueled thunderwhirl as every fantasy that Levi has ever crafted in the sickest corners of his mind flash before his eyes, as if he's standing on the precipice of death facing a pair of outstretched arms. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. He hasn't felt this _alive_ in a long, long time. The arms before him are Eren's. And they're holding him close, holding him still as fingers work inside him - one, then two, then three wet with lube.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he whispers, moans, bites his lip and cringes.

"You're okay, Levi," Eren murmurs, and his tone of voice has never been so soothing. His lips move from slender neck to boyish tapered jawline, covering Levi's ears with kisses and coming to rest in a heap of messy dark hair. As he breathes in the scent of Eren's bed, facefull of pillow, Levi is thinking about all the sleepless nights he's spent praying for an embrace like this one, all the faces of the lost; his mother crying, Erwin leaving, sandy-haired Farlan in a pool of blood, and Eren standing above them all - quiet, steady, godlike. All the wingless angels in heaven couldn't sing his praises.

_Armin, you lucky, lucky bastard._

"You ready, Levi?"

Levi hisses as Eren slides his fingers out one-by-one, but he nods nonetheless. He's practically eating the pillow. He listens as Eren opens the condom wrapper and stretches out the rubber with a snap. He tries not to clench in anticipation.

"I'm gonna put it in, okay?"

Green Eyes doesn't wait for a response, which is all right because he doesn't need one. The noise that Levi makes is enough. Like a cross between a blue flame and a knife to the chest. A groan, half-composed of pain, half of arousal; colored with the dark history of past weeks and curtainless windows. He tries to keep it from escaping, from getting too loud, but he gives up the moment that Eren fills him completely.

"That was hot," Green Eyes gasps.

Levi struggles to come up with words to express the swelling of pleasure in his gut. "I'm - I'm not gonna be sick anymore."

Eren laughs. "Okay, Levi." He leans forwards to whisper in the boy's ear. "And _I'm_ not gonna be gentle."

"Eren-"

He stops. That tone of voice is the same tone of voice that Levi used weeks ago before passing out in his arms. And it makes him falter.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, just..." Gingerly, Levi adjusts himself into a more comfortable position, aware of Green Eyes' definitely-decent length. It makes supporting himself a deliciously difficult task. "I want you... to be gentle."

_Why did I say that?  
_

But it's not something that Eren questions. Immediately, as if in complete understanding, he kneels down and straddles Levi with silent, self-aware slowness, one leg on either side of the boy's slender hips. Levi is half-expecting him to yell "psych!" at any moment and start pommeling his ass like a wrestling coach. He doesn't, though. Eren leans over his bent form and envelops him with a sense of warmth and security that Levi would have never dreamed of expecting from him; he embraces the smaller one's svelteness and begins to - of all the things that one does while fucking - _talk._

The thrusts start out slow, and so does Green Eyes. His tones are soft, quiet, and husky; instead of asking him what the hell he's doing, Levi finds himself relaxing into Eren's arms and listening to his elegy as their hips meet, then part, again and again in an unearthly caper. The words fall from his lips like he doesn't care who's listening, and maybe he doesn't. Maybe these are the things he prays about every night, the things that Levi can't hear. His own verbal version of  _The Confessions,_ punctuated by the occasional graceless moan and passionate kiss.

"I think you're beautiful, Levi. I don't know why. You're completely messed up in the head. I know you're twelve and my mind is a wreck and I have no idea what to tell Armin about you. It's all right, I guess. He'll figure it out eventually, he's sly like that. I thought I loved him but now I'm not so sure. I mean, I still want him but it's not the same. And you look so young, but it's not fucking fair because you don't act like it. You know too much, and I know too much, so maybe we're good together just like this. Even if it's nothing more. I don't like feelings. And I don't want this. But I do. I want it _so much._ "

Levi is barely paying attention. "Little faster," he murmurs.

He pushes back with the flats of his palms, forcing himself to take it like a bitch. Eren is still moving at a gradual pace, and despite the low-pitched yammering he's managed to keep an even tempo. His mouth snags the scruff of Levi's neck, and the bestial streak that seems to make him so magnetic manifests itself, ever-so-slightly; he begins to dig his teeth into the smooth vampire-white skin of the boy's back, causing more annoyance than pain.

"Don't bite me, you prick." It's more of a moan, but the irritation is convincing enough.

"Sorry."

As if to apologize, Eren reaches down to Levi's own neglected hard-on, suspended in its state of excitement. An embarrassing noise escapes him as Eren initiates round two of the stroking. His thrusts are deeper, and faster, but he still maintains a wonderfully tantalizing slowness that extends to his movements of his hand. It's far from the fast-and-furious pumping that Levi is accustomed to, but he can't bring himself to protest; he's already three-fourths of the way there and his legs are shaking uncontrollably and it feels nice enough. Eren, increasing his torque now, pounds Levi's moans deeper into the pillow with every subsequent entry. His skull knocks against the wood of the headboard, gentleness all but forgotten now, but it's okay because they're both pushing into each other so hard that the smell of need is heavy, damp in the air. Not knowing whose moans are whose, yet not caring; letting Eren drop him into the sheets as he pumps his last bit of lust into Levi's twitching form.

As Eren cries out, Levi feels the sensation overtake him and there is nothing to hold him back this time. All the faces meld into one in his mind: blue eyes, pale grey, yellow-green prisms dancing; three separate lifetimes immortalized in a single heart. And suddenly, they vanish - Levi lets go, remembering where he is and who he loves now, cumming into Green Eyes' waiting palm. The thought flashes through his mind that maybe he's made a giant mess, and it's probably all over the sheets, but he's helpless in throes of climactic glory and in those seconds nothing matters to him but the overpowering warmth.

It's over quickly, and abruptly, but not miserably. Eren withdraws his hand before Levi can moan that he's too sensitive to be touched anymore. They catch their breaths, lungs heaving, legs vibrating with the ebbing remnants of orgasm. Delicately, Green Eyes pulls out and rolls up the condom, sniffing it for god knows what reason before he tosses it in the trash.

"God," he pants, a wild look on his face as he glances down at Levi. "What _are_ you?"

"Messy," Levi gasps back, and grabs Eren's arm without hesitation as the boy helps him to sit up.

"No shit." Eren says idly. "It's all over my hands."

Levi turns around as fast as his ravished spine will allow him. There's a couple of milky-translucent threads of unmentionable stuff trailing down the front of his legs, and a decent-sized wet spot on the sheets, but most of it is webbed between Green Eyes' fingers. _Disgusting._

"Well, you can go clean it."

"Me?" Eren scoffs, lightly, despite his heavy breathing - prompting a narrow-eyed glare from Levi. "Didn't your mother teach you manners?"

It takes a moment for Levi to realize what Green Eyes in insinuating. "Oh, that's fucking _nasty._ "

"You know what else is fucking nasty? Jerking off to your neighbor while he sleeps."

Levi shoots him a fearsome, sloe-eyed glare. "I want to take a shower."

"Yeah? Well, you need one," Eren says peevishly. 

"Where's your bathroom?"

"Hold on," Green Eyes frowns. "I can't afford to waste water."

"So?"

Eren rolls his eyes like it should be obvious. "So? Let's shower together."

With a sigh that's anything but forlorn, Levi stretches his legs and slides off the bed. He's butt-naked, and there's no air conditioning, and the atmosphere is ripe with a tangy mix of body sweat and fertilizer. But there is nothing that he could want more than to be standing in the middle of Eren's room, feet black with carpet grime, right now - because, even in the midst of this dirty world, he has never felt so clean.

"Fine."

* * *

They're sitting together in the living room, half-watching the news. Celebration at Vanity Park. Festival on Main Street. Firecrackers launched from the top of the Survey Corporation building, the proud, industrial landmark that downtown St. Maria calls its own. Its mighty glass windows bloom with vibrant colors, reflecting blues and greens and reds. People swarming in the alleys below, sparklers flying and pedestrians swallowed by the throng. Red solo cups littering the ground and reporters swimming through the fray, faux-smiles glinting and concealing prayers of getting shitfaced drunk tonight.

It was the last place that he saw Farlan and Isabel.

_And all the blood..._

"I wasn't strong enough," Levi says quietly, out of the blue. Eren looks over to him, eyes green with curiosity, but Levi hardly notices it.

For once, Eren doesn't make one of his annoying inquiries, and instead resolves to hug Levi closer to his warmth. _God, he's like the sun_. "You're pretty strong for a kid. I mean, the sex was more intense than I thought you'd be able to handle... and... when I second-guessed myself, you... talked me out of it."

But Levi just shakes his head. "I want to be strong for a person," he murmurs. "Not just for a kid."

"You're both," Eren says simply. "It takes all kinds of strength to survive."

Finally, Levi looks up at him. He looks, and looks and looks.

Eren looks back.

_Maybe, I..._

Slowly but surely, Levi searches out his right hand, finds it rumpled in the fabric of his faded blue jeans. He takes it, slides his fingers in between the slender gaps, feels around for a bit.

Then he closes his fist around Eren's.

For a while, they lay next to each other, worn out from fucking and content to wallow in the muggy summer heat. Suddenly, Eren stirs, breaking the silence.

"You know, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but... I don't think your mom's really paying me to babysit you. I mean, she _is_ , but-"

Levi's head snaps towards Eren's, peaked with dire interest. "But what?"

"Well..." He looks slightly guilty, slightly sad. Part of his expression is unreadable. "I think... she wants you to have a friend. You know, like... someone to bring you out of your shell. She didn't say it outright, but I know. I can tell."

Levi's mind stumbles over the words, unable to register them fully. "So.... she pays a babysitter to do it for her?"

Green Eyes says nothing, but grips Levi's hand tighter.

"Fuck."  He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't want to be angry at Eren, but he can't help it. His gaze is tinged with red. "Just... _f_ _uck_."

"Yeah," Eren agrees. "That's a really shitty thing to do. That's why I'm gonna stop babysitting you."

"Y-you are?" The stutter is small, practically nonexistent, but it's still there. If it means that they'll never talk again-

"Don't worry," Eren says, with a terrible, knowing smile. "We can still see each other. We're neighbors, aren't we?"

The moment he looks into Eren's eyes, Levi's chest burns with something hot. "Yeah..."

_He's... he's..._

They lean into each other, and it doesn't matter who started moving first. Their lips meet in a truce - a promise that, someday, they will no longer be lonely. And it goes on, and on, and on, like the fireworks in the early evening skies outside, the sounds of children slinging bang snaps down the street. Though Levi knows he can't run away forever, he needs the sanctuary of arms, of tongue, of somebody who loves him. A hope, a ray of light in the form of the strangest boy he's ever met.

All in all, it's a pretty good first kiss.


End file.
